


Nowhere I'd Rather Be

by IcyPanther



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anaphylaxis, Comfort, Comforting Shiro (Voltron), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt Lance (Voltron), Hurt/Comfort, Lance (Voltron) Whump, Protective Lance (Voltron), Protective Shiro (Voltron), Severe allergic reaction, Shiro gets comfort too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:41:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24492922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IcyPanther/pseuds/IcyPanther
Summary: “Sh-Shiro,” Lance wheezed, tan hands splotched with red pressed against his chest where he was curled around them and pinpricked ocean eyes that were rapidly disappearing as his skin swelled met Shiro’s. “C-can’t... br-breathe.”Or, Lance has a deadly allergic reaction and Shiro can’t do anything to help him. Fortunately, their newfound allies are there to step in.
Relationships: Lance & Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 66
Kudos: 403





	Nowhere I'd Rather Be

**Author's Note:**

> **Timeline notes:** Late season one or early season two  
>  **Warning notes:** Severe allergic reaction? Otherwise nothing.

Childish laughter and squeals of delight echoed in the garden and Shiro closed his eyes, enjoying the innocent sound as much as the warm sunlight playing over his face and the gentle hum of conversation from the others gathered around.

He had to admit it; being sidelined into a forced break, just this once, wasn’t so bad, and he couldn’t think of anywhere he’d rather be at the moment than the sun-warmed, peaceful garden with absolutely none of the regular press of worry and war plying at him.

It was a strange feeling, still. Normally if Voltron wasn’t fighting then they were working on diplomatic negotiations and securing allies in the fight against Zarkon and Shiro was in the thick of all parts of it.

So being told that no, he wasn’t going to be a part of the diplomatic party this go around and that he was to spend the time mingling and enjoying the planet’s natural beauty and peace had felt wrong.

And that had doubled when Allura had announced that she, Coran, Pidge and Keith would be the ones leading the relations _and_ that to do so they were going to Lartia’s large lake several varga away to conduct the proceedings at the king’s lakeside palace where all formal activities took place. The Lartians were a small species, not much larger than Pidge although the king was near Keith’s height, and valued their small stature and hence why they had been asked to attend. Allura and Coran had morphed their bodies to fit, becoming ideal Lartian size, but Lance and especially Hunk and Shiro stood out like sore thumbs.

Hunk was to remain behind as well but the king had caught wind that Hunk cooked, tried some granola bar Hunk had on his person, and insisted he accompany them as well so he could teach his head chefs and they in turn would be honored to provide recipes of their own to the Yellow Paladin of Voltron. Hunk had been so excited he’d nearly started crying.

That left Shiro and Lance to remain behind.

Lance seemed to have no issue with being told to relax for a few days — “ _C’mon Shiro, it’s a vacation!”_ — and had taken to the orders and the Lartian culture in a blink. Shiro had to admit, it was sort of… nice, their way of life.

Very peaceful.

The Laritians were a very quiet and wise race, valuing introspection and inner peace with an abundant love of nature and appreciating its natural beauty. It was why most of their grounds were gardens that flowed around the flora where it had grown and their buildings opened to the sky. 

And apparently falling asleep in one such garden was seen as the highest compliment because it meant to the Lartians that inner peace had been found and now wisdom would flow in the realm of unconsciousness.

Shiro wasn’t someone who could fall asleep in the open like that, surrounded by strangers, although he’d seen Lance snoozing several times, oftentimes surrounded by a bunch of Lartian children who Lance spent hours a day playing with and the sight never failed to bring a soft smile to Shiro’s lips. 

But after two days of wandering the gardens and seeing the constantly sleeping or mediating occupants, environment quiet other than the occasional laughter of the children or impromptu song or music the Lartians would break into as they thought of new lyrics or verse, Shiro could feel the pull of sleep.

He’d still resisted, uncertain even amongst these seemingly friendly allies, but Lance had been the final push. He’d come over as Shiro leaned back on his elbows in the grass and settled himself down in a mimicked pose. He hadn’t looked at Shiro as he spoke, eyes forward and watching a burbling fountain, but even so he’d seen far more than Shiro had wanted… and, in hindsight, what he had needed.

 _“I’ll be in the garden right over there for a few hours,”_ Lance had inclined his head to the north side, which afforded a view of the entire space as it was inclined on a hill. “ _Just so you know in case you, uh, need me for anything.”_

He’d given Shiro’s shoulder a quick but tight squeeze, gotten to his feet, and taken the hands of the two children who had been waiting for him.

And Shiro…

Shiro had apparently fallen asleep.

He felt well rested too, all things considered as he’d apparently rolled partway into a rock garden during the course of his nap, and true to his word Lance was keeping a watchful eye out, sequestered with the children on the hill where he’d turned large vines into a swing to the delight of all of the Lartians who had never seen anything like it.

“—higher, Paladin Lance, higher!” came a shriek of delight and Shiro felt his smile grow wider.

Yes.

This forced relaxation had been a very, very good idea. 

Gravel crunched a few paces away and Shiro forced himself not to tense — Lance was here, he was among allies — instead cracking open an eye into the afternoon sunshine to reveal a Lartian with a half-empty tray of tall, orange colored drinks.

“Paladin Shiro,” he greeted, bending at the waist which put him nearly equal with Shiro’s height as he sat up. “Would you care to partake in a glass of keviw juice?”

“I’d be delighted,” Shiro took the proffered glass. “Thank you.”

The alien inclined his bald head. “It is my pleasure. And if it is not too bold to say, I am most pleased to see you embracing the Lartian way. You look much refreshed, Paladin Shiro.”

Shiro felt pink dust his cheeks but he couldn’t deny the observation. “I feel refreshed,” he admitted, taking a sip of the juice. His eyes widened as what felt like lemon and orange exploded on his tongue and he struggled not to down the entire glass in one swallow.

The Lartian chuckled. “You like the keviw juice?”

“It’s delicious.”

Delicious did not begin to describe it. Shiro drained the glass and couldn’t even feel embarrassed as he was offered a second. 

“I am delighted to hear such. The recipe is—”

“Paladin Lance!”

The child’s cry cut through the air, but it was not the squeal of earlier delight.

It was of terror.

Shiro jerked his gaze to the right — they were supposed to be safe here, he thought they were safe here and God, what if they weren’t and he’d let his guard down and now…? — and zeroed in on where Lance had been pushing the swing just a moment before.

Now…

Now he was sprawled on the ground with a cluster of scared looking children all around him.

Shiro didn’t even remember moving but somehow he was at Lance’s side within a few seconds, pulse pounding in his ears and it was taking everything he had not to activate his prosthetic as _danger danger danger_ screamed at him and he fought it because no, they were safe.

Lance must have been struck by a wayward kick of the swing, he’d misstepped and fell down, he was fine, he was...

He was not fine.

He was trembling and a horrible gasping sound was emanating from his lips.

And there was a glass of spilled juice next to him.

Shiro’s heart froze.

Poison?

Had Lance just been poisoned?

God… 

No…

This...

“Sh-Shiro,” Lance wheezed, tan hands splotched with red pressed against his chest where he was curled around them and pinpricked ocean eyes that were rapidly disappearing as his skin swelled met Shiro’s.

The children were crying now and Shiro could feel Lartians crowding in, a buzz of questions and concern and he distantly heard someone call for a healer. Their reaction did confirm one thing.

It wasn’t poison.

And if it wasn’t poison...

“—ro,” Lance gasped, and the red was creeping on his throat, up his face, where tears streamed from squinted eyes. “C-can’t…”

It was an allergic reaction. 

A deadly one.

Anaphylaxis.

Lance let out another shallow gasp, his hands spasming against his chest.

He couldn’t breathe.

He was going to…

To…

Beneath the growing rash Lance was starting to turn a delicate shade of blue, his eyes completely lost to sight. 

Shiro felt helpless.

They didn’t have Epi-pens in space, he doubted these aliens had ever heard of them either. 

CPR wouldn’t do anything if Lance’s airways were swollen as they seemed to be.

Even if Shiro had known how to use them and they could fix this the pods on the castle were too far away.

Lance was going to…

To...

“—din Shiro, what is—?”

“Allergies,” he choked the word out, hoping, praying, they understood. “He’s, he’s having a reaction. The juice.”

Shiro’s hands shook and he hovered them over Lance, who was no longer moving at all save for the barest rise of his chest.

What did he do?

What did he do?

God, what did he do?

“—ove move move!” came a sharp voice and Shiro found himself nearly bowled over by a Lartian carrying a large basket full of what looked like herbs and stoppered medicine bottles.

The healer.

She grabbed Lance’s face without ceremony and pressed what looked like a wad of grass beneath his nose.

Lance let out a choking gasp and Shiro’s heart slowly started beating again.

He was breathing.

Thank God, he was breathing.

The healer wasn’t done, prying open Lance’s now open mouth further and pouring in a bottle that smelled and looked like tar.

Lance’s body jerked but the alien seemed to have been prepared for that as she had clambered atop him, her hands holding his mouth closed, and pressed down.

Shiro saw Lance’s throat swallow once, twice, the faintest moan sounding and he turned his head to the side.

More tears poured down his cheeks, but, Shiro swallowed thicky himself, his eyes were visible once again as the worst of the swelling began to fade even if the rash remained.

His chest rose with breath beneath the healer’s hands and she sat back with a satisfied sounding hum that could only mean one thing.

Lance was going to be okay.

He was really going to be okay.

“Paladin Shiro,” the healer looked at him and Shiro forced his gaze from Lance’s face to hers, “are you feeling any similar symptoms?”

Shiro slowly shook his head even as he took inventory of himself.

But there was no sensation of not being able to draw breath, no rash, no itchy or swollen skin.

The only symptom he had was a far too rapid pulse and feeling a bit lightheaded and he knew exactly why that was.

“No,” he managed to say. “I’m.. I’m fine. Is… is Lance…?”

“He requires further treatment still, but,” the healer’s voice softened, “he will be all right.”

The breath of relief that sounded through all the gathered Lartians at the announcement was second only to Shiro’s own.

Thank God.

He’d thought…

“Paladin Shiro, would you assist in transporting Paladin Lance to our healing hall?”

“Yeah, yes, of course,” Shiro’s arms felt shaky as he slipped them beneath Lance’s back and legs after the healer had disembarked, but he pulled Lance firmly into them, cradling the slender, _breathing,_ body against his chest.

He followed the healer from the garden and into one of the open, airy buildings.

Lance stirred as they hit the harder slated rock, a low whimper pulled from his throat.

“Hey, buddy,” Shiro greeted softly as slits of dark ocean blue peeked open. “How’re you feeling?”

“Sh...Shiro?” Lance’s voice was small and breathy. “Wh-what…?” he let out a moan and tipped his head to hide his face against Shiro’s shoulder. 

“Almost there,” Shiro murmured. “Close your eyes, buddy. Almost there.”

Lance let out another moan.

“In here, Paladin Shiro,” the healer gestured to a large, bright room where several almost nest-like beds in clean linens were laid out on the floor. 

Shiro carefully knelt down and deposited Lance into the nearest one.

Lance whimpered and curled up, eyes still scrunched closed. 

“Paladin Shiro, I will require your assistance,” the healer came back from where she’d crossed the room to a large chest of drawers, more supplies bundled in her arms. 

“Anything,” Shiro said.

The healer, whose name he found was Martel, instructed him to remove Lance’s shirt, which upon lifting up revealed tan skin mottled with the same red rash. Shiro ended up guiding Lance into a slumped sit so he could remove it, coaxing the boy to move his arms as needed.

“Dizzy,” Lance whispered, swaying in his sit. 

“A common symptom of aileirdsidh,” Martel said, voice pitched far softer than Shiro had yet heard it as she rubbed a thick blue colored paste onto Lance’s skin and he shivered at the ministrations. “You will feel better once you are lying down.”

“Ail-er-id-sid-gha?” Shiro sounded out, gently rubbing a circle on Lance’s back as Martel moved to his front.

“No doubt what you referred to as an allergy, Paladin Shiro, a violent reaction to an outside source. It is common in our children but they grow out of it by ten or so decaphoebs. That said, I have never seen a reaction such as this. We shall need to monitor closely in the event of a relapse.”

Martel went on to describe what each product was for as she applied or had Lance drink it — the paste to pull out the rash and now lathered all down Lance’s arms and on his face too, another bottle of the black-tar like medicine that was responsible for narrowing blood vessels and opening airways, a different pale-peach colored medicine that would help to both hydrate and dilute the contents of the stomach, and another cream applied over Lance’s chest and throat that would assist with the breathing and was made of the weed-like plant she’d shoved beneath his nose earlier and a final tonic she said would help with the dizziness but would make him tired.

“He will require constant monitoring for at least the next fifteen varga,” Martel said, wiping her hands on a towel as Shiro gently lowered Lance down into the nest of blankets, the boy’s body relaxed and his eyes closed not in pain but with drowsiness. 

“I’ll stay with him,” Shiro said immediately.

There was absolutely no way he would do anything else.

“My staff shall check in each varga,” Martel inclined her head. “Should you need immediate assistance though all you need do is shout and someone will respond.”

Her stubby hand brushed tenderly through Lance’s hair and he gave a soft, contented hum, turning into the touch and Martel’s eyes widened before they softened, her lips pulling into an equally soft smile.

Shiro felt something warm fill his chest at the sight.

“Rest well, Paladin Lance,” Martel murmured, carding her hand one last time before lifting it free. She met Shiro’s gaze then before she bowed her head. “We are truly sorry for the trouble we have caused Paladin Lance and yourself.”

“No, no,” Shiro waved a hand at the apology. “It was an accident. You saved him, Martel. The only thing I can say is this,” he bowed as much as he could at the waist from his seated position as he’d seen the Lartians do when showing everything from thanks to respect. “Thank you.”

Shiro felt a hand descended on his head, brush through his bangs as tenderly as she had done for Lance and it hovered there, warm and motherly and Shiro swallowed thickly at the hot sensation filling his throat.

She was gone before he could figure out what to say.

Shiro turned his attention back to Lance, watching as Lance’s chest rose up and down and the soft breaths he made were even and strong.

Shiro took a deep breath of his own, letting it shudder out, and the action seemed to rouse Lance as he turned, half-lidded blue eyes turned in Shiro’s direction.

“Hey buddy,” Shiro said quietly, bringing his own hand up to tentatively run through Lance’s hair and smiled as he received the same reaction Martel had. “Feeling better?”

Lance gave a small hum.

A frown pulled down his lips a second later.

“I’m…” he swallowed, throat bobbing and even through the blue paste and red rash Shiro could make out a hint of a pink blush. “I’m sorry.”

Shiro blinked.

What?

If anyone should be apologizing it would be him and for how absolutely useless he’d been. If it hadn’t been for the Lartians’ healer then…

Then Lance would have died.

“You have nothing to apologize for, Lance,” Shiro said gently. 

Lance gave a weak shake of his head. “I, I said I’d…” he trailed off.

Shiro understood.

Lance had, in his own way, promised to keep Shiro safe.

“You did, buddy,” Shiro assured softly. “You looked out for me. You did. And I’m… I’m sorry I couldn’t do the same.”

Lance’s brow creased with confusion.

“I couldn’t do anything,” Shiro admitted, chest tight with guilt. “You, you were _dying,_ ” and God, saying it aloud made it somehow even more real and Shiro felt suddenly faint, “and…”

Shiro startled as Lance managed to lift one paste-covered hand and drop it atop Shiro’s prosthetic lying limp on his lap. “‘s okay, Shiro,” Lance mumbled, his eyelids losing the battle to stay open. “Not your fault. An’...You’ll… you’ll take care of me now.”

“Of course,” Shiro whispered, shifting his prosthetic to carefully take Lance’s hand into his own and give it a small squeeze.

The action released the knot in his chest. 

Lance’s lips twitched into a smile.

Shiro found his own matching it.

“Get some rest, buddy,” he murmured, rubbing his thumb back and forth over Lance’s hand. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“’kay.”

Lance snuggled his face more into the blankets, smearing blue paste, and Shiro’s smile widened as in the cleared patch he saw more tan skin than red rash. 

“Shiro?” Lance mumbled, word muffled by the linens.

“Hm?” Shiro hummed, not willing to break the peaceful silence as Lance settled down.

“I really… really did like the juice.”

It took Shiro a moment to put the mumbled words together.

His eyes widened.

Lance let out a huff of laughter and Shiro gently knocked him on the head, earning another laugh.

“Crazy,” Shiro muttered, shaking his head but the last tendril of guilt clinging to him fizzled out at the innocent sound that promised everything would be all right.

Lance really was watching out for him.

“Thank you,” Shiro whispered, barely audible to even himself.

He’d needed that.

Lance gave a tiny “Mm?” of confusion and Shiro smoothed his hand through the boy’s bangs.

“Go to sleep,” he murmured. 

Lance’s breaths deepened a moment later, steady and strong. 

Shiro settled in for his quiet vigil, more at peace than he’d been even in the sun-lit garden, as his hands carded through dark hair and he gazed at Lance’s slumbering, peaceful face.

There was nowhere he would rather be. 

**Author's Note:**

> Given what's going on in the world today I thought we could all use a little love and comfort and what's better than some platonic Shance? ♥ On a more serious note, I hope everyone is staying safe and healthy, taking care of each other, and spreading kindness and understanding because our world is in pain, people are suffering, and while I believe in the light at the end, in a better tomorrow, today it's scary and painful and dark and while I know a fanfic can't fix any of this, I hope it brings a little light and comfort to you. Gonna end this with some FMA Roy Mustang because words are power and I feel these are powerful, needed words. _"The power of one man doesn't amount to much. But, however little strength I'm capable of, I'll do everything humanly possible to protect the people I love. In turn, they will protect the ones they love. It seems like the least we tiny humans can do for each other."_ Take care, everyone, and stay strong ♥
> 
> And not to forget, if you enjoyed the fic, please leave a comment below detailing what you liked about it (the small details make my day!). Emotional support and validation for authors is super important (and right now especially hearing from readers means so much) and your comments mean the world. **_Please, please, please_** don’t just be a page click or a kudo. Thank you!


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